


You Save Me Everyday

by abigailwarren74



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigailwarren74/pseuds/abigailwarren74
Summary: Bananun AU. Sister Mary Eunice finds that Lana is missing from her cell the night Oliver Thredson took her. Worried, she sets off to find Lana. A complete rework of the old "Save Me" into a three-part series. Please start reading from chapter 1.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: All chapters of this story are works of fiction and are not intended to be used as guides. No copyright infringement was intended. All character credits belong to the talented team of writers behind this AHS series. Suitable warnings may not be in place so please read at your own discretion. Thank you and happy reading! 
> 
> Warning(s): Includes a description of rape on the part of Oliver/Lana. To be read at reader's discretion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally meant to be written as an 8 part event (therefore the front preamble in chapter 1). However, due to my wavering ability to continue writing this work, I have cut it short to the remaining 3 parts (don't worry, these are the best bits). I hope that the additional chapters will give this story it's due closure. Thank you.

She was passing in and out, over and under my head like magnificent thoughts I could not grasp. She was standing there, killing me with her eyes yet again, directing the bitter wind to catch in my coat as I struggled to take the steps needed to close the distance between us. Over and over, I ran my choices through my head. 

 

_ Where had I gone wrong?  _

 

_ Where did I lose track of myself?  _

 

_ When did I succumb to the whispers in my head? _

 

It bothered me that I couldn't remember and it bothered me even more that I continued walking down the same path, so stuck in my ways that even guilt couldn't turn me back. 

 

_ How far did I come from where I had been before?  _

 

All these little questions in my head but still, I put one foot forth, another foot forth, and I was walking down the path again, hoping that the winding steps I took would bring me to another choice. I was so sure I had it all planned out; all the mistakes I could foresee, the lack of grief and the forgiveness I would not have. 

 

_ Who started these fires in my eyes when I look at her now? _

 

Somewhere, somehow I had gone wrong. hat the next chance I would come across to make a choice again, it would be void of selfishness, void of arrogance, void of ignorant.

 

I looked at his hand in mine, backpack over his shoulders and slowly led him away from Mary. The look on her face scared me. 

 

_ How would I become his mother this way? _

 

"Why don't people run away?" Johnny tapped on me to get my attention. 

 

My face snapped in the direction of him, "Sorry, what was that?" 

 

"Run away," he said again as I got down on my knees in front of him, looking up at his squarish face, "Why don't people just run away?" 

 

My eyes darted around his face as if looking for the real reason behind his words. "And why would they do that?" I questioned.

 

"Because things are so much harder when they stay," he told me, "Like now. Why doesn't Mummy just run away. Why don't you just run away?" 

 

"And leave you here?" I chuckled.

 

"I'm old enough," he reported with a toothless smile.

 

I smiled at his playfulness, "Would you… Would you like to run away with me?" 

 

"But what about Mummy?" He looked stunned.

 

A wave of sudden sorry washed over me for making him choose. I sighed slowly. "I… Don't answer that. I just wanted to say that we could run, both your mummy and I. We could run and we'd run and we'd run but we would never get away. The longer we run, the further we think we have gone but that's only what we think. It never really gets any further than this," I pointed to the distance between Mary and I. I watched as she narrowed her eyes at me.

 

"And that's still too close," he remarked carefully.

 

"Mmhm," I answered, still locking eyes with her.

 

He didn't know what else to say so the grip on his bag tightened ever so slightly and he watched the wordless exchange between Mary and I.

 

“Johnny, look at me,” I raised his chin so he would meet my eyes. All these uncalculated risks I took, they were all a mother’s instinct. I wanted to hold him in my arms as quickly and as long as possible. 

 

"I don't think… I don't think you will be old enough to understand my words but… This gap between expectation and reality… This gap… It is really where pain lies. And you have to be able to understand where these lines are; where there are meandering paths, where there is an edge as sharp as a knife." 

 

His eyes were dilated, sides lined with that deep hazel I could never forget.  "Johnny, oh, my sweet boy…" I exhaled a shaky breath, "I’m.. Sorry...." 

 

"This is so unfair!" he squeaked softly it broke my heart.

 

"I know," I whispered as I stole a feverish glance at Mary who stood regal, arms folded. She was void of emotions when she looked at me but I could tell that she had been crying. Her nose was red from the cold and she had that shine in her eyes. 

 

“Do you want me to recite you Emily's monologue again? One last time," I gave him a pathetic little smile. He nodded miserably, tears threatening to spill out. 

 

_ When did my heart grow two folds to include him? _

 

_ "Wait! One more look,"  _ I started, pointing all around us,  _ "Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover's Corners? Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking?"  _ The watched wrapped around my wrist became his,  _  "and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths? and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? - every, every minute? I'm ready to go back."  _

 

"Let's go," I whispered once more.

 

His hand rested snugly in mine and he looked at me. I looked at Mary. "Mary," I mouthed in her direction woefully. She was unmoved and her eyes were tired now. She towered over me even from that distance. "Mary, can we please. Please talk." I tried. Her head shook once only but her answer was firm.

 

_ If she left now… If she left…  _ As though she knew that my heart had made a decision, she strolled away into the black car awaiting her by the roadside, confident I had made the right choice. Confident that she had won. 

 

I stood frozen to my spot and my heart was fluttering. The alleyway to my right was just in the direction of the car's blind spot. _This was my final chance._ _Run. Could I let him go once again?_

 

The sole syllable to my answer remained drowned out by a sound of shrill screaming. Then, I must've woken up.

 

###

 

The scream I let out was human in many ways. "Lana," he sighed, coming down the steep steps towards me, "What have I told you before? Girls with bigger lungs have tried." That owner of those words were who I had come to fear most. 

 

I had already lost track of time in this skyless basement where I may well be spending the rest of my life in. My eyes were already glazed over with fresh tears as he approached me with a lust that could kill. I couldn't help but tug mercilessly at the chain that is clamped around my ankle even though I know Oliver doesn't like it.

 

As he came closer, I could make out his strong brows under his glazed glasses. "Oliver please," I plead like a child. 

 

"Lana… Lana… I always knew you were the one..." he whispered in a monotonous manner, floating around the basement like a doctor would around his clinic as he untied his silky tie. He pull the tie from his collar in a seductive manner, leaving it around the bedpost.

 

I scrambled backwards, as far as I could possibly go until I bumped into the cool wall behind me and my only wish then was to disappear right into it. I knitted my eyebrows together, half in anticipation, half in fear. 

 

"How has your day been?" he asked so casually, as if he were the husband returning from work all whilst stripping to his white tank, unzipping his fly. His brown trousers drop to his feet, revealing a tight boxer that kept his length.

 

I looked away. Although I had seen him naked many time now, his stark body never failed to send a wave of disgust through me. I wanted to puke. I remained quiet and my eyes chased the wall until it landed on the door of the basement which he had left wide open. How cruel of him. I felt like an animal at the slaughterhouse where the exit would be splayed wide open but the only way was through.

 

The pathetic radius that the chain allowed me to walk would not even cover half the room.

 

My attention was snapped back when I felt Oliver's weight shift onto the soft bed.

 

"Take it off," he drawled, putting a cigarette stick between his mouth, waiting for me to slip the blue standard dress over my head. 

 

"No… Oliver…" I began to beg but he just stared at me like my request was particularly hard for him to fulfil. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth as if contemplating my plea before roughly pulling my frail body by the thigh closer to him, pinning me down helplessly as he slipped the standard blue gown up and above my head. He stared at my pale flesh like a lion at it's prize.

 

This, was his prize, and I had walked right into the Lion's den myself.

 

He traced his fingers across my naked belly, causing me to shudder, tears already crowding my eyes. His hand moved closer and closer until it became too close for me to handle. I withdrew, putting up a fight as I shot back up into a sitting position. My tiny hands fought to cover up the remnants of my dignity.

 

"Oh, Lana, stop fighting," he said, gently prying my arms that were across my bare chest. When I don't budge, he took the chance to press each wrist on either side of the bed, forcing his entire weight on them, the bed dipping under the pressure. I began to feel my hands grow blue from the sudden cut of blood circulation, my heart thumping against them.

 

"Lana, I said don't fight," he seemed angry with his clipped words. He looked at the cigarette bud between his fingers and then at my breast. He brought it down, closer, closer, closer until I could feel the burn of the heat bounce off my skin. I stilled and stared at him, knowing I would scream if it came into direct contact with my delicate skin there.

 

But just as he was about to burn me, he pulled his hand away, shaking his head as he put the stick off in an ashtray.

 

"You're trying so hard not to scream," he said like a doctor, "When I do something like that; bring you to the edge of fear just to pull you back again. It makes your brain thank me despite you saying otherwise. Funny how the brain works, right Lana?" 

 

He smirked, and used his index finger to trail right around my chest. A shaky breath escaped my ajar mouth as his calloused hands found my flesh, the core between stick thin thighs. It was a waiting game. Waiting for him to touch me, waiting for his next move; Waiting for him to do what I knew would come next. It was all a waiting game and he was winning.

 

In a moment though, he swung his legs over my thin body and was on top of me. Despite all the wait time, it still took me by surprise when his hands forced my knees to bend, calves touching my thighs and he pushed then all the way against my chest. I looked down at myself, still bright pink from morning's torture round.

 

His whole palm rested on me, rubbing up and down, as if warming them in this cold Boston night, even though no breeze could reach them.

 

I moaned, slightly, to the delight of Oliver. He let a smirk grace his face, pinching mehardly, causing me to shout. His smile only grew bigger.

 

"It won't hurt," he promised, drawing his fingers up and down, teasing me. I felt shame creep across my face as he continued to toy with me. He continued so for a while and I looked away to the bedside drawer that once contained Wendy's picture. I felt his fingers positioning himself at an angle before pushing past me into the wet heat that had begun radiating from from the work of his tireless fingers.

 

My arousal only served as his pleasure, his motivation.

 

"Lana..." he groaned tracing my lips with his fingers. 

 

I tried to look away from his prying eyes but they were just so brown… Like Wendy's once used to be. Whatever he was doing to me, I felt myself stretch uncomfortably tight. His invasive digits assaulted me until no dignity was left in me. 

 

I jerked in shock, my hands finding the sheets as I grasped onto them for dear life. 

 

I whimpered and then shut the world out.

 

###

 

Time whirled by like water down a drain. One minute melting into the other, each day into the next. My breath remained permanently erratic as his fingers continued to wander shamelessly around me, mocking my helplessness.

 

That day, I lost a part of me. Up until then, I had never been with a man, much less one like Thredson. I would lose the other half of myself when my son came into the world but that's another story to tell. 

 

The redness from the constant friction and heat had grown all the way through my face and onto my chest. I was sure I was bleeding down there as well but my eyes kept fluttering and my mind kept wandering to places other than reality.

 

I laid there, as good as dead, wondering how God could be so cruel to anyone at all. It was a time like this that people would whisper a half clipped prayer despite their sins– despite my sins. And I did not expect my prayers to be heard.

 

By that time, I had already lost count of how many painful oragsms I'd had. My fingers, legs face all did not feel mine anymore. Everywhere hurt, everywhere ached. Strands of wispy hair I was once proud of were now stuck onto the dried tear and sweat tracks that covered the entirety of my face.

 

It was that moment, between the bliss of an orgasm and the pain of humiliation that my ears perked at the sound of footsteps coming from upstairs. I watched with unfocused eyes, watching for Oliver's reaction but he had been too preoccupied with his arousal that the sounds just swept past his deaf ears.

 

My gaze fell on the door once again, hoping that my saviour would show up. With hope like a last fishing line tossed into the deepest and darkest of oceans, I closed my eyes and waited for my hero to come. 

 

And I prayed too, for the first time in many years. 

 

Then, I opened my eyes to the prettiest sight of all my years. Blunt blonde strands from short bangs showed themselves. The first hint of what was to come. The pale pointy nose and that so distinctive chin. 

 

The pain subsided into a numb tingling against my skin, settling as a ringing in my ear. I watched as time slowed down right in the glossies of my eyes and the world became a better place. The blonde lady came bounding down the stairs, followed by bodyguards, oh glorious men who would use their sheer brute force to push the distracted Oliver off my naked self. 

 

I cried out like a baby just birthed from its mother's womb. 

 

I watched as the blonde lady fumbled with my shackles. Her pure tears drenched the white sheets as her shaky hands found and traced against my showing ribs. She looked straight into my doe eyes and I couldn't quite believe the gossamer blue that resided in hers. We stare for a split second and I was sure I had fallen into her trance.

 

She danced around me like an exquisite dancer before finally pulling her piece of blue cloth over my head, inviting me to dance but my legs gave way like a newborn calf and I fell unceremoniously onto the floor. Despite that, I remained entranced by her secret twirl as she scooped me up  into her arms. 

 

And I almost felt like I was in one of those TV shows about a firefighter and the damsel in distress. 

 

Then the house exploded in flames that lit up in the reflection of my eyes before I closed them shut again, wiggling my face into my own superman. 

 

To be very honest, I made up the ending. Or at least my therapist insists that that is the case. When one's mind has something to fear of such magnitude, it is better off imagining a new reality.

 

But I don't believe I made up her apple sweet breath or the warmth of her body. Or the blonde hair and the blue eyes. Mary was real and I could feel her existence coursing through every one of my veins.  
  



	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Xx. Happy reading

_ In an empty place, my heart continued to sing to an illustrious song she composed. When the day comes for it to stop, I will be gone. _

 

_ 6 months later... _

 

The day I escaped Briarcliff, I felt a tidal wave of emotions fill my gut so full I had to empty out the bread that was for breakfast. It was an unmemorable blink because I  _ still _ saw Jude. And Oliver  _ still  _ continued to grow inside of me. He made me take up more space in the world than I would ever want.

 

I wish I could purge him like I had with my last meal that day. 

 

With all that happening, I continued to see Mary occasionally when I would be back in Briarcliff to do investigative work with Detective Marnelli. Every time I saw her was like having a knife to my heart. I never knew when would be the last time I would be back to Briarcliff and so I never really knew when to say goodbye. 

 

The last time had no words. Her hand was wrapped specially tight around me that last time and as though she had sensed it. That was the moment I would replay over and over again in my head before I sleep, during showers and other times when regret was the largest thing in the room. 

 

Oliver grew and he grew and crying seemed to be the only thing I could do during all those silent nights with him where neither of us spoke, or even moved. 

 

By the sixth month, he kicked me for the first time. I swore I would kill him. 

 

The next day, he booted me once more as I helplessly watched myself writhe in discomfort, reminding me of how much he was like his father. 

 

I stopped eating altogether, hoping that Oliver would leave me. My stomach became an empty pit. But instead of him leaving me, my own soul began to leave my body. By then, I had blinked so many run-of-the-mill blinks I began to think my life would not progress further than that. 

 

But with just enough time for that thought to pass, a memorable blink came. I received a knock on my door. Evening already fell like a bright orange blanket over this small town in Boston and I wasn't sure who it was going to be. 

 

Seven months pregnant by now, I waddled towards the door, banging my swollen belly twice against the kitchen island while reaching for a knife. The sun glimmered through where the door's craftsmen was bad. With a forceful yank, it swung like a barn door, banging my bitterness for the third time that day. 

 

And there she was, her hair  _ still _ hidden and eyes  _ still _ blue. I wished I had looked better when I was at the door to receive her. 

 

From all the wrong angles that she saw, I had sunken cheeks and sunken eyes with fashionable collar bones that could cut. From all the wrong angles that she saw, my blue veins ran under me like a spiderweb, threatening to claim me whole when I lain lifeless In my grave. From _ all those  _ wrong angles that she saw, I think she thought I was _ dying. _

 

I remembered her shaking her head so hard that the quake propelled her sobs, it was only the saddest most desolate sob I’ve ever heard. She knocked me off my balance when she swatted my outstretched hand that provided her a polka dotted handkerchief to wipe her griefs away.

 

Till this day, I carry that grief around in my pocket.

 

"Miss Winters," She cried out softly, unable to shake off the formality, "Why are you doing this to yourself? Help me understand.  _ Please, _ " She ended with another shaky  _ please _ before pulling me so tight in a hug my soul almost merged into hers. 

 

A series of apologies began to slip from my lips as if I had a stroke. My mouth was no longer mine and from it, meaningless words continued to pour. I could only watched, detached and soulless as I told her about my murderous plan to rid Oliver. Mary listened attentively to my torment until the saliva in my mouth ran dry and the crevices in my eyes became parched.

 

I blinked to get the water back into my withered dead eyes but with it came a sense of recklessness. I kissed her so hard on the lips I was sure her lips would be swollen by the end but it did not matter. She did not kiss me back but did not push me away either.

 

There were so many things in this world to fall in love with but it had to be her. 

 

We began a romance wild and dynamic in nature. Bold like me but shy and reserved like her. The way I saw falling in love with her was the way I once saw a boy fall onto the floor flat on his face. It was slow motion, and the redness spread across my face like a wild bush fire before I even fell.

 

The way she loved me was different. I wasn't at all sure she loved me. _ Hell _ , I wasn't even sure she knew what love was. 

 

The way I loved her was nothing like I had loved Wendy. It wasn't about the sex or the way her pale long legs looked. It was about the way her eyes glimmered in the sun and the way her hands wrapped around a book she could not put down. I wanted to talk to her, every single minute of my life and wanted nothing more.

 

The more time we spent together, the more I came to regret kissing her that night. 

 

For every blink after that, she dropped by my house whenever Jude sent her on  _ errands _ . She would cook me dinner, and because she did not know when she would be back, she always cooked extra to be put in Tupperwares in the fridge. And she would always leave with a salty goodbye and a stern warning for me to eat. But the packet dinners continued to stay in the fridge until the time she’d come back. I was just stubborn like that. 

 

But whatever we had to call  _ love _ all came to an abrupt end when Oliver came early at the start of the eighth month. He was as red and as warm as a freshly baked bread from the oven and I winced at the sight of him. 

 

His wrinkly fingers called out to me with an instinctive cry, begging me like I begged his father in that wretched basement. I pointed my nose to the other side of the room, away from Mary’s eyes as she placed the baby against my chest. When I felt his tiny mouth latch onto where I wanted no man to touch me, I rolled my hands into tight fists, looking up at the inverted cross against the headboard. 

 

I abandoned my son at the hospital four nights later, unknowing and not wanting to know of his fate that laid ahead. Being bloody face’s son... That was his  _ sin _ . I was sorry there was nothing more I could do to save him. 

 

As Mary held on to the child I no longer wanted, she cried like someone had robbed her, as did the child and with two more long, long blinks, I grew impatient with the both of them. 

 

With anger in my face as red and as ripe as an apple, I yelled at the nurse to get them both out of the room. 

 

I never wanted to see either of them again. 

 

Mary did not bear remembering, much less Oliver's son. The born sinner that I thought I wanted nothing to do with ever again. 

 

Like a snake, I shed off my old skin, leaving myself vulnerable in the new world where I had to 

 

A full moon later, I sat naked in the tub full of water, I had a bad thought. But instead, I searched and I searched for the boat that floated away into the far end of the bathtub. Another blink and I was searching for my hands and my feet. But most important of all, I searched for the time that swirled down with the water and soap into the drain.   
  
Another blink later, I brought down Briarcliff and from that, freed all its slaves and people who didn’t think they’d live to see another day of sunlight. I was hailed a hero and praised a martyr but I knew, _ I knew  _ inside, I was nothing. Empty darkness that even the great sun couldn't reach.

 

Between all the miscommunication and misunderstandings, it felt like our lives with each other had come to an end. All my tears fell at once like I the time I had fallen for her. But I was so debauched even her pure hands and a good bath could not wash me of my sin. 

 

I mused about the next time we met, if that time ever came around again, if I or her might have met someone that could make us feel or desire something that we did with each other but could not fulfill. 

  
  



	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's still for Xx. Happy reading

"It was a dark and stormy night," I wrote in my book  _ Maniac _ . I remember my high school English teacher telling me to think of a different way to describe a day like that but I didn’t think I could because it was a dark and stormy night and all I could remember were my muddy boots against the concrete floor and the howls  _ and Mary _ .

 

The last time I saw her was when I was doing my book signing in New Jersey.  _ Maniac _ had become a New York Times bestseller by then. 

 

The twinkling of the wind chime on the door felt like a fitting entrance for her. But when I had first heard it, even though I saw her blonde hair and the airy ambiance that remained after she walked away, I did not once think it would be her. Why New Jersey of all places?

 

"Mary Eunice," I heard being called by the third aisle in the quaint little bookstore called  _ Arthur's _ . You wouldn't believe how hard I craned my neck just to see if it was her.

 

I stopped my book signing mid-sign and walked with apprehensive  _ click clack _ steps towards the direction of where the name had come from. The hair at the back of my neck immediately stiffened. An aroma I was so used to came pouncing through the air. 

 

I heard their conversation. "Mary," an older, more mature voice repeated, just as I came down to the aisle, "Helena is already waiting outside. Let's go." 

 

Before I saw her, she seemed to have seen me. And by the way she grabbed on to the coat of the tall man beside her, I instantly knew how sorry she was for moving on. She looked the same even without her hidden hair. I refused to blink because I knew how much could change in one fraction of a second. I tried to take her all in. The way her long bangs now swayed to the side and how in her free hand, she carried a heavy bundle against her chest that was wrapped in a woollen shawl. There was no way to know what she held in her hand because I blinked and she took the chance, running away so quickly into the arms of a man I had never seen, I never had the chance to ask. 

 

At the end of my day, I left one last signed book with the counter. He immediately knew who I was talking about, his exact words, "Miss Mckee? Of course I know her! She’s here all the time. I'll be sure to pass this to her." He waved the book in his hands as I tried to smile politely. The fact that this man was going to see her again angered me. 

 

That night when I returned to my hotel, I mourned for the loss of Mary.

 

A blink later, I stuck my entire life in a box and skipped across two states, into Manhattan on the Upper East Side with the sole purpose to disappear. 

 

The new apartment that I owned was something of dreams. But the white furnishings seemed to seek the ghost that was in me. Everywhere I went, the white marble tiles reflected like a bad mirror. White was supposed to be pure, it was supposed to be clean.  _ Who made it to be a ghost? Were they once just souls who lost their way and became ghouls?  _ Before I could regret- I reminded myself that Angels were white too.

 

The royalties from my book kept rolling in and at that point of time, I did not see any reason to work. So I delayed my start as a columnist at the Times and lived in my head for the next year or so.

 

Because of all the free time, my mind began to see things that weren’t there. Sometimes I could see Oliver and I would shriek in my brain before brisk walking in the opposite direction. When I got back home, I would shake my head vigorously until all my thoughts and fears poured out. 

 

To cope, I stopped looking at men on the street and started playing games in my head. The lady in the red beret, she looked like Mary from the back. The lady in the green coat, she looked like Mary from the left side. The lady with the pearl necklace, she walked like Mary. Suddenly, everyone had become Mary and for a while, I thought I was losing my mind.

 

After that, I still saw things that weren’t there. 

 

But with enough blinks and tears to wash clean my warped vision, Mary soon became a distant photo memory I kept locked in a tin can that I set underneath my bed until it grew so thick with dust I no longer wanted to see it anymore. I kicked it further under the bed. I could no longer see it between closed eyelids now. In the midst of everything, it felt like our lives with each other had ended.

 

And I came to live without her, one day at a time. 

 

I began to like the time between the ending of a month and the beginning of another. Each month brought a little bit of each season to the window at my bedroom that stared down abhorrently onto the trees of Central Park. Instead of counting the number of days I had last seen her, I began counting down. To what? I did not know. 

 

On that gray morning, I wish we had found each other earlier. I wanted to be able to sit by the couch and have a cup of coffee with her. I wanted to write books and books about her adventures. I wanted to learn to cook dinner for her. But this was where our fate led us; A dead end.

 

These days, my kitchen resided in one of the take out packets from the Chinese restaurant just down the street. The steel knives had become stained with orange rust. 

 

I had always loved being alone. Even with Wendy, sometimes I wished I could tell her to get lost. And I did, and she got lost. But with Mary… She held my hand so tight despite my protests and she tried to pull me out of my darkness. She  _ tried _ .

 

Once she was gone, the loneliness, it grew and it grew until all at once, it swallowed me whole and I could no longer see the ambitious woman I saw all those years ago in the mirror. I had wilted pathetically.

  
I walked away, a woman without a past and a bleary future. I did not know if I would be back to pursue to past. I was in the between place in a perpetual sunset where the sunrise was another day away. Three blinks ago, I thought that sunrises and sunsets were what I lived for, when I used to tag Mary's name by my mouth like the smile I carried in my pockets, a bright secret I could not keep. But now, I have become a ghost. And I made Mary into the shadow that followed me into the darkness. But ghosts had no shadows and darkness was not a good friend. 

 

So just as I did, she faded out of the light like all things did with time. And we became the invisible wind, unseen, unheard and unmoving. 

 

With the remnants of Mary's last smile etched onto my boot that left imprints on the cold wet ground, the clock struck twelve. The bed was soft, yet cold. Time slowed down and blinks no longer brought me through the next day. My parched eyes looked towards the ceiling and I wondered how much time would need to pass till I would- till I  _ could _ start missing her. 

 

I blinked, and my life came to a standstill.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally meant to be written as an 8 part event (therefore the front preamble in chapter 1). However, due to my wavering ability to continue writing this work, I have cut it short (don't worry, these are the best bits). I hope that the additional chapters have given this story it's due closure. Thank you.


End file.
